


Five Times Steve Tells Ghost He's Nothing Without Him - Without Using Words

by theskywasblue



Series: Five Things [3]
Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z Brite
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue





	Five Times Steve Tells Ghost He's Nothing Without Him - Without Using Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dr_zook](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dr_zook).



_This is it_ Steve thinks, _this is it this is it thisisit._

This mind is spinning, reeling. He’s drunk, and more than a little high on R.J.’s cheap weed – the stuff that tastes like dirt licked from a fresh-picked mushroom stem – and still he shouldn’t be so goddamn wired. It’s just The Yew, even if it’s going to be their first time on stage they’re playing the fucking _Yew_ to a bunch of kids as drunk or stoned or just plain out of their minds as Steve is, who probably won’t give two shits if they suck.

Steve doesn’t want to suck though. He wants this to be _it_. He wants this to be _the show_, the one that years from now people will look back on and say _Lost Souls?. Yeah man, I saw them on their first show, I knew they were gonna be **huge**_ \- he wants his hackneyed guitar playing to do justice to Ghost’s soul-heavy words. And maybe he should do one more sound check – just one more...

Cool fingers brush against the back of his hand – and it’s a fucking good thing that he’s got his strap over his shoulder because otherwise his guitar would be on the stage in pieces his body shakes so hard in surprise.

“Breathe Steve,” Ghost whispers right in his ear, his breath warm, soothing, “You need to remember to breathe.”

Steve pulls the air in, as heavy as that first drag, smelling clove smoke, spilled beer and club sweat, feeling the tilt of the stage lessen just enough that no longer feels like he’s going to slip right off it and out into some imagined space. He breathes, threads his fingers through Ghost’s and hangs on for dear life.

***

When Steve gets a bloody nose, or a black eye, Ghost doesn’t look at him and say _“You’re a dumb shit, Steve”,_ though he probably has the right.

Steve knows he’s a dumb shit, sometimes. Especially with a few drinks in him, especially with a few drinks in him and someone trying to get under his skin, saying even dumber shit than the dumbest thoughts that had ever slipped into Steve’s head.

Yeah, he’s a dumb shit, but he only ever swings his fists around over someone he loves, and Ghost knows that, so Ghost never says anything about it.

***  
The house is quiet that first day, and all into that first night. It’s strange with Miz Deliverance gone, not empty really, because it doesn’t entirely feel like she’s gone yet and maybe it never really will. Surely someone with as much _presence_ at that won’t just disappear.

Steve lies on the couch and wonders if Ghost will disappear, vanish from Missing Mile and into the arms of some mysterious family he’s never talked about. He tries to imagine the house completely empty, without its rich herb smell, without Ghost’s drawings on the walls and the giant piece of quartz on the living room table.

It makes his head hurt. It makes other things hurt too.

The sun comes up on that second day and Steve walks down the hall to Ghost’s room, slips into the darkened bedroom with its canopy of painted stars.

Ghost is still there. When Steve climbs into the bed, he smiles in his sleep.

***

There are thousands of miles of highway between Missing Mile and the rest of the world. When he’s on the road alone, Steve sometimes wonders why they don’t just drive forever. Sometimes on the road he thinks Missing Mile is a shithole, Missing Mile is the place dreams go to die, prone on the shoulder of Violin Road like an old dog.

Steve never feels that way when they’re on the road together. When they’re on the road together all the endless stretches of highway lead back to Missing Mile, and there’s nowhere else Steve would rather be.

***

The night is hot, even after midnight – thick, putrid, fevered.

A night for nightmares. A night when Steve won’t sleep for more than a few minutes at a time, keeping himself awake with a can of beer he’ll try not to drink pressed against his forehead.

Ghost doesn’t ask Steve about the nightmares. He knows well enough, really. Once – just once – he says _“I wish I could take them out of your head,”_ which is a damn stupid, noble, Ghost-thing to do.

Steve leans against his shoulder, even though it’s too hot, and doesn’t say a word.

-End-


End file.
